


Mine and Yours

by Laywithmeart



Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Mystery Lover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-02-06 00:42:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12805878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laywithmeart/pseuds/Laywithmeart
Summary: Hannibal finds out about one of Bedelia's lovers.





	1. Chapter 1

He's been rude, again. When he hadn't shown up for their scheduled session last week, without so much as a call to let her know he would or could not attend their meeting, Bedelia showed her disapproval by ignoring his attempts to reschedule.

It's wasn't as if he lacked a good reason for his absence, neither does he lack one this second time, but he doubts Bedelia will take the explanation as a worthy excuse. Honest as ever, she does not make an effort to hide or control her expressions when she is unimpressed, and so, it was easy to tell that his elaborate description of a new interest fell flat. Knowing this, knowing she isn't as fond of Will Graham as he is, makes the prospect of having to name him as the culprit for this repeated disregard of punctuality something not to look forward to in the least. After all, he wouldn't want Bedelia to wrongfully presume he thinks of her as any less than Will.

As he approaches her home five and a half hours later than agreed, thinking of how he should apologize, how the mention of his potential friend is bound to be met with curt replies and an abundance of silence, his train of thought stops short when he sees a dark-haired man walking towards a parked car in her driveway with a certain spring in his step.

His eyes flick to the front door, where Bedelia lazily leans against the frame. As the mystery man drives off she moves back inside, leaving Hannibal instantly very curious about the nature of the visitation. She's never once lingered when he exited her home, so, why would she do so for this man. His curiosity only grows when Bedelia answers the door with a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, one that disappears quickly with a hint of dissatisfaction when their eyes meet.  
He detects a certain unease in her attitude and wonders why that might be, who she was expecting to open her door to at this time of day, but then the lift of her eyebrow quickly reminds him of his rude behavior and the apprehensive feeling of having to explain himself returns.  

"Hannibal," She states, more to herself than to him, and sighs.

"Bedelia,"

"You missed our appointment this afternoon."

"I apologize," Hannibal says while holding up a bottle of her favorite vintage.

When Bedelia does not react, he continues. "A very unfortunate event came up. I did not see an opportunity to let you know in time."

"I was worried."

He remains silent for a beat. Was she truly? Had she really been worried about him? Why? And to what extent? Was she not too _distracted_ by the mystery guest then? Knowing that questioning her statement would lead to a refusal to partake in the session now, he settles for playing by her unspoken rules instead.

"That certainly wasn't my intention, Dr. Du Maurier."

His answer including the mention of her esteemed title seems to be appreciated, for she suggestively takes a step backward, inviting him inside. As she walks towards the living room, he inspects her appearance and the state of her home with a scrutinizing eye; looking for anything out of place, a sign indicating why the unidentified, and much to Hannibal's annoyance, handsome man was here only a few minutes ago. Unfortunately for him, he finds nothing.

 

......................................................................................

 

"I suspected as much." That was all she had to say when he mentioned Will's name. Her posture instantly became stiff and the silence that followed marked the end of his hour.

He is not sure why she suddenly seemed to be so irritated, and so easily too. Even though he greatly appreciates her honest reactions, he would find her sudden coldness an incredibly unprofessional reaction to merely referencing his potential friend. If he's not mistaken, Bedelia would be of the same opinion if confronted. Her dismissal could not have been related to his late arrival still either, as her permission for him to enter her home in itself spoke volumes.

Before he decided to address the reason for his absence earlier that day, they'd been discussing somewhat safe, but comfortable topics while sharing his forgive-me-gift.  They drank slowly, both leaning back in the chairs, and she was so visibly relaxed. The low, warm light in her living room illuminating her blonde locks, creating the feel of a slight romantic edge to their interaction during that late night session.

It was not lost on Hannibal how it was so different than their usual setting, and he was all too aware that her posture could have been down to the man possessing the face of a typical Armani model rather than the hour. This could be her sated state, he thought, much to his dismay. He was not responsible for it, and he immediately felt a sense of anger at that, along with a hint of something else building up inside his chest that he still can't quite place. It was then that their conversation took a turn, when his attitude shifted. He knew it could backfire, that corrupting the moment had the potential to damage the easy-going ambiance for Bedelia's tongue was, and is, always sharp. What he hadn't counted on, however, was wrecking the entirety of the moment by giving the named explanation he figured he still owed her. Of course, it served as some disguised form of retaliation, but she couldn't have known that. Or could she have? Did she, in fact, see through his game? 

Whether she discerned his baseless, blameful anger from his apologetic account of the events of his afternoon or not, he surely did feel resolve crumbling through his fingers. He had left feeling utterly confused; about Bedelia's response to Will's inclusion in the conversation, her reasoning behind that disliking, the Armani model she let break the silence in her home with obvious delight, and about that nagging sensation he felt concerning said mystery guest.

The fact that he hadn't seen anything that would indicate a single detail about the nature of the visitation actually had him mulling in annoyance the entire week. As he sits in his assigned chair at the moment, the session almost over, the desire to ask has reached itching level. However, after the previous ending manner of conversation, of which the tension is still palpable, he doesn't dare take the plunge. He does finally address the other topic carefully though, the one about which she cannot say doesn't concern him.

"Why do you dislike Will Graham?" His voice sounding much harsher than he'd meant it to sound.

Bedelia doesn't bite immediately, she first just looks at him instead. The usual hard glare that he receives when it comes to this particular subject slowly takes its place on her features. Luckily, not as cold to signal a full dismissal.

"Why do you ask?" Her voice calm and collected, but low.

"I am interested in him becoming my friend."

"I see," she leans back a little, "And how is my opinion on Will of any importance to you in this case?"

"Your opinion matters to me, in any case."

He could swear he saw the ghost of a smile appear, a slight shine in her eyes, pleased with his admission. She quickly regains her strict composure though, going in full force, "I do not dislike Will Graham, nor could I as I have never met him."

"And yet you seem uncomfortable when I mention him."

"Will Graham does not make me uncomfortable. The aspect of a friendship between you two does."

"Why?"

"I consider him to be an unfavorable option for a friend."

"So, you don't disapprove of him as a person, but you don't approve of him as my friend," Hannibal states, rather than asks.

"It is not my place to approve or disapprove of anyone as your friend."

"Exactly. As my psychiatrist, you are supposed to act impartially."

"That is correct, but I must also advise you to do what is in your best interests, Hannibal."

"How is having Will as my friend not in my best interests, Bedelia? He and I share a worldview that is rare and of importance to me."

"Rare it is," Disappointment flickers across her face so fleetingly, Hannibal almost failed to notice it.  
He wants to press on but he's slightly taken aback, making it harder to observe her regained professional composure, which now seems even more rigorous somehow.

"Are you certain that this is an aspect you have in common? She asks, "Or are you projecting, based on your desire of friendship?"

"Isn't finding common ground always a matter of projecting?"

At this, she stays silent, and it becomes clear to him that she is giving him time to reflect on his own answer. Will does not, in fact, share his vision truly, but he could if properly persuaded. The same goes for her. Close to losing this round but not ready to admit defeat, he tries to verbally back her into a corner.

"In your opinion, who then would be a 'favorable option' for a friend?"

At first, she merely arches an eyebrow, probably suggesting she finds this question an incredulous impromptu form of a come-on and it's displeasing her. She might think he should know better than to ask questions he already knows the answer to, that she would reject him as he is her patient, but that is not what he's asking. Her knowledge about him does not extend to this length.

"Someone who wouldn't judge you."

"You think Will judges me?" This is becoming amusing. "And based on that presumption you feel he's a misfit as a friend?"

His slight crooked smile is quickly and unexpectedly nipped in the bud by her answer, however. "Based on what you have told me about him, I believe Will Graham is someone who would judge the side of you he has not met yet. The one that is currently hidden behind your neat human veil, no matter how much you try to mold him to your standards."

Hannibal lets her answer sink in and becomes more alert. How much does she know exactly? Not enough if she dares to speak so boldly, he reckons, but her increasingly intense stare has him doubting.

"What you need in a friend is someone who you would not feel like molding, not because of already existing similarities, but due to acceptance of the differences. He's not only an unfit friend to you, you also are to him."

If he were sensitive, that would have been quite an insult. He would like to prod further though, find out why she holds such ethical models, like acceptance, as a higher priority than nature. But at the moment he needs to gather as much information on her awareness of him as her body language and facial expressions betray.

"So Jack Crawford is out of the running potentials then?" He jokes, ready to detect any hint.

"Jack Crawford doesn't know what you're capable of. Neither does Will." She states eerily calm, not giving away much.

"Neither do you." He warns.

"Oh, but I do, Hannibal." His villainous demeanor apparently has no effect on her. "I know what you are, I see the truth of you." She has him silent and in something akin to awe with her unabashed honesty. She really isn't frightened by him. Her own wicked voice, a low tone he hasn't heard her speak in before, is surprisingly thrilling to him.

"Do you now,"

"I do, and I like and accept you as you are. Would Will?" That is checkmate.


	2. Chapter 2

  
The moment was so intimate, the tension palpable. If it weren't for the melodious tune of her doorbell, drifting through her home like wildfire and breaking their spell, he would have taken a more daring step forward. 

He had been attracted to Bedelia since the first moment he met her, soon considered her to be an actual person, one he could count on for unapologetic critique, loyalty, and stability. Yet, now that they were actually becoming closer, at least from his point of view, he is being served an unexpected and unpleasant surprise. 

As Bedelia opens the door, he waits, standing in her living room. He hears her voice, suddenly soft and warm. "Hello, Christopher." 

Hannibal's irritation at the interruption is instantly doubled, and his curiosity takes over. Before he has the time to catch a glimpse of them talking, Bedelia is back at his side. She escorts him to her front door, apparently in a hurry to get him out of her house and forgoing their routine after-session glass of wine without an explanation. 

And there he is, standing on the other side of the threshold. Hannibal recognizes him right away, but he is even more handsome up close than Hannibal gathered from his earlier glimpse. 

The young man, or old boy, is in his early-thirties, hair neatly combed to the back, perfectly in line with his elegant wardrobe. He wants to strangle him already, even more so when he catches the vastly readable expression on Bedelia's face, gazing at this man with a hint of delight. It has Hannibal growling on the inside, making him feel sick. 

His height competes with his own and Hannibal feels the urge to stretch out a little in order to win that round. Just as Hannibal is about to introduce himself, the asshole speaks. 

"My sincere apologies, I've arrived too early."

"It's alright," Bedelia's voice flows between them, tinted with mild amusement. "I was about to see my patient out." A sly smile playing on her lips. 

Hannibal wants to know exactly who this guy is, but Bedelia obviously isn't offering an introduction. Neither does she care to provide an explanation for his presence, so Hannibal gives the man a false polite smile before excusing himself and stepping out. 

When he turns towards his car, he catches sight of them together. The gesture of Christopher's hand, resting possessively on Bedelia's hip, is impossible to miss before the door is closed, shutting him out in the same process. This boy is dead meat. 


	3. Chapter 3

To say that he isn't happy about this situation is a vast understatement. This boy will have to endure a lot more than being stripped of his ability to reproduce and a stabbing in the heart.

In the days after his first sighting, Hannibal had tried to reassure himself that the man could simply be a starting psychiatrist, eager for guidance from one of the best; a mere colleague in that sense. He could have been a new patient of hers, something he would actually be very pleased about on behalf of Bedelia.

Or, regarding this to be the last option, he could have been a friend of hers. He managed, with great effort, to keep the 'with benefits' addition separated and banned from his train of thought.

All that wishful thinking went right out the window when the two of them displayed such playful body language. Bedelia's amused sultry voice nearly showing off that their connection is far more than a form of platonic relation.

And as if that filthy hand on the immaculate curve of her hip was not enough to drive him to the edge, he is now descending into madness due to the performance he just witnessed.

 

_40 minutes earlier_

 

He doesn't want to let his curiosity get the better of him, doesn't want to succumb to his racing mind, but he's too far gone in his rage; he needs to know for sure.

He has pulled out of her driveway and parks around the corner of the street, enough of a distance to be out of sight.

He glances in the rearview mirror, hoping to see the man driving off again. But If this son of a bitch walks out of her home right now, it better not be with her beside him to take her out for a date.

He waits a short while, reluctant to conclude what could be happening inside her home at the moment. Normally their wineglasses stood empty on her kitchen counter by now, _his_ and hers.

Just as he cannot stand to remain seated, waiting for an answer, he comes up with an idea. He sneakily tiptoes through her garden, all the while still fiercely hoping that he is not losing his favorite conversational sparring partner to such a generic man.

He wonders if this teenage and acquisitive reaction of his is a sign that he fears the loss of control over Bedelia, or if his invasive protectiveness is actually about him feeling more for Bedelia than he initially thought. Sure, he has fantasized about her, on multiple occasions actually. He feels confused, this whole situation is confusing the life out of him, but he remains sure of one thing though: for that little rat to have a lover as lovely as Bedelia would push him to insanity.

To have her show that boy where she likes to be touched, what amount of pressure pleases her, if it's slow or rough that makes her come undone in a man's arms, it makes Hannibal's blood boil. Hannibal loathes the man even more as he thinks of the fact that Christopher might actually be strong competition, especially in the physical sense. _What if she feels comfortable enough to lose control in front of him, letting him hear the sounds that escape her throat at the peak of orgasm?_

Hannibal looks to see if he can detect movement on the other side of the glass windows, but it's too dark inside for him to tell where they are. Occasionally stopping to hide behind a bush, he finally reaches the back of her house. The lights are still on in her living room, shining through a narrow line where the curtains split. Hannibal moves closer and closer until he catches sight of them; his stomach drops.

There is Bedelia, wearing a tantalizing, dark-green, lace negligee and practically writhing on top of a naked Christopher. He is lying flat on his back, stripped and completely at her mercy by the look of it. She's riding him, fast and hard, and even though Hannibal can't hear them, he can tell that they are both moaning and grunting.

Christopher's hands are each pinned beside his head in a pretty firm grip, but when Bedelia let's go of them they immediately reach out to cup her breasts. Hannibal wants to swat them away, wishing it was him who was touching her right now. He's never seen her in such an aroused and feral state, and Hannibal finds himself longing to be at the center of her attention.

When Christopher suddenly sits up, Bedelia holds onto his shoulders while continuing rocking back and forth with fervor, evidently determined to get what she wants. Christopher bends his head, whispering something in her ear that has her thrashing and spasming almost immediately. Hannibal yearns to shatter the window to pieces, insert himself between Bedelia and Christopher to bash the man's head in, but most of all he is desperate to lick the sweat off Bedelia's back, smell her scent and hear her hummingbird heartbeat.


	4. Chapter 4

It has been plaguing him like a disease. The scene that played out in front of him last week is on repeat in his mind, each time ending with a different imagined addition fueled by his rage and something else.

He hadn't been exaggerating when thinking of losing it if his suspicion turns out to be true. Two of his favorite antiques left his house in pieces, the kind cleaning lady lost her job, and every man who resembled Christopher in the slightest either got the stinkeye or stopped breathing if Hannibal encountered them.

He is not accustomed to this sensation, this all-consuming nagging ache. The term for it had, of course, come up in quite a number of sessions with patients, yet he never truly understood how those people could let themselves be led by it. He, unlike his patients, had always gone out and got what he desired. Now, however, he genuinely grasps the concept of jealousy being a bitch.

As soon as she came, he had left. A fire of anger and jealousy blazing inside his heart, wishing it turn out to be his imagination going rampant; just a concept in his head. Yet each time the realization of the truth hit him, and his mood had turned sour.

At the moment he is on his way to her house. Arriving late for their session again, but this time deliberately and with a purpose; he wants to know if this 'Christopher' has regular... _appointments_... with his Bedelia. That's right, _his_ Bedelia and he is damn sure going to let that boy know it.

His move serves a second goal. As he is very cross with her as well, he will blame his pretend tardiness on Will. Referring to him just to spite her, will surely create another round to their verbal match and, in turn, it might just serve as the aphrodisiac it did last week. If it does, he will make sure the other man does not run with the fruit of his labor.

......................................................................................

He cannot recall how he imagined his plan to be a good one, how he could have even played with the idea that it might be the way to her heart. She is his blind spot, and she is currently downright fuming with anger.

Even though she had made clear that she is fully aware of what's lurking beneath his well-tailored person-suit, she showed no fear when their session took the ill-fated turn. And while Bedelia practically doomed him to the patient-zone forever on the spot, he realized right there and then that she just might be the only woman alive who he is afraid to disappoint.

As soon as the W-word was dropped, Bedelia visibly tensed.

"You said that you value my opinion, Hannibal, but do you really?" She asked, her eyes narrowed.

"I do. I want to know what indicates to you that Will would judge me, were he to find out who I really am."

"From what I have gathered about Will Graham, I can conclude that he will definitely find out what you really are, Hannibal." She said. "He will want to uncover what's on the other side of your human veil, using as many manipulative stabs as it takes"

"He who pokes the bear is bound to get poked back." He had replied.

"Will Graham does not poke the bear without a hidden agenda, Hannibal. It seems to me that he pokes to let it's true nature shine through, and once it's exposed... he will want to cage it. And I fear he would assemble evidence to do so." Bedelia took a deep sigh, one that betrayed a note of sorrow.

"You do not want me to be caged." He stated

"No, I do not. He will betray you, Hannibal. All the while being your so-called 'friend'."

"You seem to be very certain about such an outcome."

"I believe he is a man to whom cunning comes as a second nature. Why afford _him_ , of all people, your friendship when it offers such vulnerability."

If Hannibal had been as open and honest as her, he would have told her he thought she was right. However, he was too cross to admit it in any sort of way. He realizes only now that she had put herself in an extremely vulnerable position for him in that moment; she knows he could wreak havoc and horror upon her if she spoke out of turn. She showed once again how she accepts him for what he truly is, unlike Will Graham who never would or could, and he had rejected it. He had rejected _her_ in a most low manner.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them and Bedelia glanced at her watch, announcing that only five minutes remained of his weekly hour. Hannibal sensed a hint of hurry on her part and decided he wanted to discuss one last bothering topic.

"Am I correct in assuming you wish to skip our usual after-session wine, again?"

"Unfortunately I have to pass up on that, indeed," Bedelia said, briefly looking down. "I am expecting a quest to arrive soon."

Hannibal stayed silent for a bit, he could see Bedelia's stare wasn't as certain, not as determined as it usually was. It was as though she had a harder time looking him in the eye.

"The boy who came by last week, is he the quest you are expecting?"

Bedelia seemed to be contemplating her answer, presumably doubting whether she should share this information. She remained sitting still in her seat despite the transparent turmoil she was fighting inside. Going down this road was obviously not comfortable for her, but then her eyes turned a shade colder, hardening with defensive strength.

"Yes, he is."

"Christopher is his name?"

"Yes, it is. Why do you ask, Hannibal?"

"I was wondering why you didn't introduce us."

"You consider it rude."

"Very."

"Well, considering your late arrival, without notice and two weeks in a row, I guess this makes us even."

"How did you come to meet him?"

"That's none of your business, Hannibal."

"And yet he is intervening in my time with you, cutting our session short."

Bedelia glanced at her watch again, "As of now, your hour is over. And let me remind you that, even though our usual after-session bottle of wine is not obligatory, far from an official part of therapy, we cannot share it as you arrived late."

Hannibal was furious. Before he anticipated the remainder of their conversation, he was calling her out.

"He is your lover."

Bedelia stared at him. Defiance twinkling in her eyes, exuding a confidence that was stronger than he had seen in her before.

"Yes, he is."

It took everything inside him not to leap at her at that moment, and she noticed it.

“Does that bother you, Hannibal?"

“Why would it bother me.” He snapped back waspishly.

"Your demeanor indicates it does."

“I have told you before, I feel protective of you.”

Bedelia arched an eyebrow. “Protective? Or merely possessive?”

He looked back at her, eyes filled with cold incredulity. She was really standing her ground on this, consciously undermining his control.

“He is… adequate, I suppose. A bit too young for your tastes I thought.”

At that moment she shot him a death glare, her voice eerily calm and low. "Listen to what I tell you right now, Hannibal. You do not own me."

"He is young, Bedelia. I did not assume you to be a woman willing to spread her legs for a boy."

And that's what did it. He was on the other side of her front door in thirty seconds, all but respectively shown out.


	5. Chapter 5

He cannot go home. Her 'guest' is about to arrive soon, and he is wrecked with a wicked mixture of guilt and rage.

As soon as the hour is full, a dark Rolls-Royce pulls up. Bedelia greets him at the door with a feigned smile and lets him in. Before the door is closed entirely, he sees Christopher arms wrapping themselves around Bedelia’s waist.

He could just wait here, spare himself the humiliation, but his hunger for her is too intense. With his curiosity not satisfied yet, he decides to sneak another peek.

Hannibal feels guilty about invading her privacy this way, once again. Is aware that he ought to leave, show her respect, especially after what he said to her previously this evening.

When it comes to Christopher though, Hannibal is still seething, eager to punish him for his crime of interference. He can hardly wait to celebrate the crushing of his competition.

Before he knows it, he is sitting on his haunches in front of her window once more. They are not in her living room, however. Upstairs, a light shines dimly. Hannibal climbs up the drainpipe, shuffles along a narrow ledge to reach the window, ripping his meticulous suit in the process.

With both gratification for succeeding and utter dismay, he locates them. The last time he mostly saw the back of her, a beautiful pair of cheeks and drops of sweat flowing along the curve of her spine, but now he can see her full-frontal. Her breasts sway hypnotizingly as she takes her anger out on Christopher in a way Hannibal feels immensely jealous of.

The boy, or _young man_ , does not cross her boundaries. It is obvious to Hannibal now that Christopher only obliges to her needs; another aspect he cannot fault him for.

 _What if this is what Bedelia longs for? What if she desires him for his normalcy and obedience?_  It is something Hannibal cannot offer her. The thought of her feeling any form of love for this guy strikes fear in his heart, as does it spark rage in him only to be tamed by revenge.

Hannibal waits there, sickened, while his eyes track Christopher with predatory concentration, dying to pounce on his competition. He is getting hard for her, his dick twitching in his trousers. As he longs to touch her, ice slithers through his stomach and his jealousy burns a hole in his chest. Oh, how love can be a health hazard. He is determined to see this evening through though. He needs to track the young man home after he has finished... 'conducting his business'.

Suddenly, Bedelia's eyes snap open and her gaze falls right on him. He is caught in the act, but she does not still her hips, does not slow down for even a fraction of a second; she does not hide. Instead, she maintains eye-contact, not considering him to be a threat at all.

Her golden locks bounce with every move and her lips part before they seem to order Christopher. He quickly grabs her hips and pistols into her.

His darling Delia, normally so much softer, with eyes that always seemed to say everything and nothing at the same time. Her glare is hard now, so uncharacteristic. Or, maybe, he had never really known her before this. He definitely had not appreciated her as much as he should have, of that he is sure.

The young man between her thighs suddenly speaks to her, breaking their spell. She climaxes, but as she remains sitting upright without difficulty, her eyes abruptly turn blanc. Hannibal senses dissatisfaction, some kind of unfulfillment.

Maybe this Christopher isn't as much of a competitor as Hannibal first thought. He is undeniably going to love seeing him beg and rot out of contempt though. In fact, he might just use his favorite carving knife tonight.

......................................................................................

It had been the tensest, least productive session between them in years. She had asked generic questions and he had responded with monosyllabic replies. The two of them pirouetted around the subject that occupied at least one of their minds predominately.

He wants to know why she chose Christopher to be her lover in the first place, how come she simply kept staring at him while she and the guy were... well, busy. More importantly, he needs to know why Christopher's visit was planned right after his own appointment.

He wants to ask her about it, is still angered by it, but at the same time he doesn't want to cross her boundaries again. So, he tries to approach the topic while radiating all the affability his person suit allows.

"I saw you," Hannibal swallows, "Last week I mean."

"Yes, I'm aware." His question obviously doesn't take her by surprise. "Tell me, what urged you to climb up to my bedroom window and spy on me."

He ignores her question, not ready to admit his feelings, not even to himself. "You did not seem shocked, did not stop when you saw me."

"Do you suppose I should have? That I should have been embarrassed?" She asks unabashedly.

"Well, why weren't you?"

"I refuse to be embarrassed for tending to my needs, Hannibal. And besides, It was you who crossed a boundary."

"So that is all it was between the two of you."

Bedelia breathes out through her nose, her lips a sharp line, and fixes him with a hard questioning glare. "None of this is any of your business, Hannibal. I do not owe you any explanation when it comes to my private life, you do owe me however for overstepping the line.

Her reminder of the distance between them strikes him, it actually hurts. Though he is still unsure, frightened almost, of the depth of his feelings for her. Her voice brings back his alertness.

"How come you used past tense for your last question?"

He shrugs, yet not keeping his answer vague in any way. "My guess is that you should not expect him to make an appearance any time soon."

"I see." Her reaction surprisingly still and detached. "Are you responsible?"

Hannibal simply stares back, completely aware of his evilness shining through his human veil.

She remains eerily calm at the other end of the room, once again not concerned nor cornered.

"Red or white?"


End file.
